Here is the difference between Dante, Milton, and me. They wrote about hell and never saw the place. I wrote about Chicago after looking the town over for years and years.

Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.

Valor is a gift. Those having it never know for sure whether they have it until the test comes.

The fog comes on little cat feet.

Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.

There is a music for lonely hearts nearly always. If the music dies down there is a silence. Almost the same as the movement of music. To know silence perfectly is to know music.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.